


The way I always do

by columbine_and_asphodel (onlycrooks)



Series: The Innocent Bystander [14]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, First Time, Genuine Get Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morning Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 22:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlycrooks/pseuds/columbine_and_asphodel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a thing that's not a thing but not a nothing, either, that becomes just another thing Danny doesn't notice.</p><p>Or: Things come to a close.</p><p>Written in a mutation of the 5 Times + 1 Other form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The way I always do

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't worked out that this would be the title for the chapter with sex, but hey, life's kind of funny like that.

_First Step_

He's lying on his side, stretched across the bed- Steve's bed, rather than the spare- as he always does for their morning ritual, but there's something different this time. Danny had expected some kind of change, true, but not like this. This is subtle, an absence instead of an action. A not-thing. It's Steve's hands that, for the first time, don't shake as he cleans Danny's skin and changes his dressings, and it's Steve's silence, no longer filled with guilty hisses as he dutifully cares for the marks he thinks are his fault. (They aren't, of course; they're from the man who'd held the actual knife. Danny knows this and knows Steve does, too, beneath his stubborn need to blame himself- a frustrating trait, however key to who Steve is.)

Danny stretches as the sounds of Steve cleaning up make their way to his ears. He's tired despite sleeping well, yesterday morning still heavy on his mind.

It hadn't been a surprise, finding Anja in the kitchen, baiting Steve, but it had gotten under Danny's skin nonetheless. From the beginning, she'd promised to leave once they'd gotten evidence on the real john- politician, target, whatever- to take to the man's superiors. The debt would be paid, the corrupt official's leash tightened and Anja's mission a success, and though it had all happened, it hadn't been enough. She'd stumbled across Steve and, like always, decided to play with him, because men like Steve, who're used to being in charge and command respect just because of who they are, make something in her twitch. The number of times they'd nearly been caught because of that twitch...

Steve leaves as he'd come in, soundlessly slipping past Danny and through the doorway.

Danny decides the not-thing would be better if it weren't so quiet.

* * *

_Second Step_

Steve is hesitating in the doorway. Still.

"I'll grab breakfast, if you want," he offers, but doesn't wait to hear Danny's response, just walks away. Walks, not hurries.

Easing onto his back, Danny sighs. The not-thing is getting louder.

Steve's feet are soft on the stairs but stick on the kitchen floor, and when he makes his way back (to Danny, to the room), he steps on the stair that had creaked last time Danny'd been here, the one Steve hadn't touched once the past few days.

The not-thing may have a name after all.

Danny doesn't open his eyes when Steve opens the door, just holds his hands out and accepts the water and pills Steve always offers first. He isn't surprised that he's already fallen into a habit with Steve; for a man who's made a life of being surprising, Steve settles easily into routines, somehow dragging Danny along without even telling him.

That Steve- carefully looking at the far wall, rather than Danny- is carrying two trays instead of the customary single tray isn't entirely unexpected. (No one said his routines stick, and Danny gets some satisfaction from breaking them.) He may still hold himself like a SEAL, but as Danny watches him, he can see him shift slightly, Steve's equivalent of scuffing his shoes.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there, taunting me, or am I eating today?"

Steve clearly wants to smirk at him but suppresses it as he hands over a tray and slides onto the chair at the foot of the bed. He can't keep a straight face when Danny moans at the sight of the banquet before him, though. Eggs and _bacon_ \- sure, it's turkey bacon, but Steve's been forcing oatmeal and toast on him for so long, anything _meat_ is welcome. Bird, pig, whatever....  _Some_ animal was sacrificed for his enjoyment, and he's too grateful for it (and the tiny smile Steve's struggling to hide) to complain.

He wonders when Steve's going to pick up on that.

* * *

_Third Step_

 

At some point, breakfast is joined by a nap. Danny isn't entirely sure when or how, but one day, as he's settling in for a snooze, he realizes the not-thing is a thing. Steve's added another routine to their day. Breakfast in bed for Danny and in the chair for Steve is now followed by Danny lying in bed, pondering the slumbering SEAL stretched out beside him, face mashed into a pillow, his body somehow having sneaked under the sheets without disturbing Danny.

That Steve's there isn't as unnerving as how still he is. He doesn't roll, shift or mumble to himself; he doesn't even snore.

If he leans in to be sure Steve is still alive, Danny can hear him breathe, but it's barely audible, as if Steve were on another of the undercover ops he can't and won't talk about.

Maybe he is.

Deciding it doesn't really matter, Danny settles in for a nap of his own, pretending not to hear the sigh a few inches away. Steve will be gone when he wakes up later, out burning off the extra energy he's got or in the living room, staring at the pile of paperwork Danny's been watching him not do.

He ought to say something so Steve knows he can stay, that he's welcome to come back tonight when his nightmares won't let him sleep, but he won't. Steve has to figure out he's been forgiven on his own or he won't believe it.

* * *

_Fourth and Fifth Steps_

 

Danny finds the paper on the floor outside his door and knows immediately that it hadn't been put there on purpose. It's far from complete and has a number of scratch outs Steve wouldn't permit in something with his name. Besides, he's too forward a person to play a game about this sort of thing, but that doesn't mean Danny can't read it over.

It takes him a few tries to be entirely sure he's reading it correctly, but once he's sure, he hurries on, desperate to know exactly what had been so important to Steve he'd resort to this.

He isn't shocked by what he finds. After all, there are only two details of interest.

The first is the date, and the second is a specific reason Steve had tried to express.

Danny knows Steve's out swimming, and he knows following up on this lead will mean breaking a certain amount of trust. He can't leave it, though, not when his gut is telling him this isn't the only one. There are more of these; there must be. And where there are more, there are bound to be more details, too. Danny's too much of a detective not to want those.

The study isn't locked, but that doesn't make him not feel guilty about going through Steve's belongings. He'd asked the man to re-earn his trust, yet here Danny is, searching for things he knows Steve doesn't want found.

He's located and read five papers with varying amounts of not-quite there when he feels someone watching him. A quick glance at the clock on the desk tells him more than an hour and a half has gone by, but he's more surprised Steve's taken so long to reveal himself- he's definitely been watching for a while, figuring out what Danny's doing- than he is by how much time's gone by.

"Find what you're looking for?" Steve's voice is quiet, careful. He's looking for something from Danny, but whatever it is, Danny's too busy gathering his hoard closer and analyzing what it means that _Steve still has these_ to figure out what.

Still, he can't just sit on the floor, hunched over a few papers, ignoring the man who'd written them.

"I found something, yeah..." he tries, knowing it won't fly but half-hoping it will.

"Oh, really? In a desk filled with papers? I'm sure it isn't personal, is it?" Steve rumbles, still hiding behind him, but Danny gets a flash of insight anyway.

"It could be, actually. The question is, should it?"

He doesn't hear him approach, but Danny knows Steve's behind him now, looming the way he does when he's upset and thinks he can hide it.

"That's the question, is it? Not, why is someone who's name isn't on these-"

"Actually, I think you'll find it is. On them- all of them, in fact. A number of times."

"That's not the point! You asked me to work for you to trust _me_ again, so why are you going through my things?"

"I know, okay? I know I'm a hypocrite, but, Steve... There was one outside my door, and I couldn't just leave it." Steve's breaths are hot on his neck as he squats down, but he can't think that will distract Danny from- "Hey! Hands off, McGarrett. These are mine."

They aren't. They really, really aren't.

He wants them to be, though. Steve's kept them for a reason, and whatever that may have been originally, now it's so Danny can have something that says what Steve wants- what he's _been_ wanting. For years, if the dates are to be believed, and Danny's got a feeling they are.

"Come on, Danny. Be sensible. They're mine, and you know it."

Danny shakes his head. He isn't in the mood for sensible. In fact, he's feeling a little _sensitive_.

"How many are there?"

Steve's sigh is a bright white flag, but Danny's more concerned with what he's surrendering than that he is.

"I'm not really sure. Maybe ten?" he murmurs.

"'Maybe ten?' What is that? Maybe seven _total_ or maybe seven _more_?"

"Danny..."

"Steven, this is important. How many?"

The growl against Danny's neck isn't as important as Steve's whisper.

"Say that again," he demands. There's no way...

"I lost track! It wasn't seven total or seven more. It was... a lot, all right? Sometimes it was one every month, sometimes weekly... For a while it was after every case, whether we caught the guy or not. It just wasn't the same without you. Chin and Kono were good to have and still are, but they don't fought me like you. And Cath... She's better suited to Naval Intelligence than she was to Five-0."

Steve's forehead presses into Danny's back, between his shoulder blades, harder than he'd probably intended, but there's something so _Steve_ about it, making himself at home wherever he likes, Danny doesn't snap at him. He's even willing to overlook the lie about how many of the partner requests- despite his dislike for paperwork, Steve went and made up another form- he'd started to fill out, trying to keep Danny from knowing there's even more to add to his collection. (He's going to keep them, of course, no matter what Steve says. The most recent one Danny has now is close to blaring Steve's feelings, and he wants the proof of it under lock and key, where he can get to it whenever he wants.)

"You're the best partner I've ever had, Danno, so yeah, I wanted you back," Steve mumbles, cutting into Danny's thoughts, and when he takes a slow breath, Danny isn't sure he's done, isn't sure he should say something back. "...I still do."

Smiling- a real smile, the kind makes his face hurt- Danny takes hold of Steve's hands and leans back, the old nickname relaxing something he hadn't realized had been tense.

"I missed you, too, babe."

The smile against his skin feels as wide as his own.

* * *

_Sixth Step_

 

His badge and gun are heavy on his belt, and damn if Danny hasn't missed them. It's been a week, but he still feels their weight as if he were a rookie again, fresh from the academy and ready to jump into crime fighting. Well, he had until Five-0 actually caught a case and he was, once more, sitting in the passenger seat of his own car, being dragged around the island by a lunatic whose smile had yet to leave his face since first presenting newly reinstated Detective Sergeant Slash Partner Daniel Williams, HPD and Five-0, with his gun, badge and, hilariously, personalized TAC vest.

If he weren't currently on his ass on a landing in the middle of a dingy hotel's dirty stairs, clutching his newest bullet wound, Danny might have even been able to smile with Chin and Kono, who are currently hauling a semi-conscious arms dealer to the nearest patrol car.

He's missed them, but the pain in his knee- the good one, too- has put a dampener on the joy of working with them again. That, and Steve's expression.

Steve had been right behind him as they chased the perp through the hotel, Danny's smaller body better able to navigate the tiny turns in the emergency stairs, and he'd still been there when the dealer had turned and, for reasons unknown, fired.

Luck and only luck had gotten one of the bullets anywhere near Danny and Steve, as it somehow found its way across the side of Danny's knee. It had hurt and surprised him enough for him to trip over himself, barely evading Steve's feet as he rushed forward, body checking the arms dealer into the wall.

From there it had been the usual: disarm, pat down, cuff, call the cousins, who'd been waiting in the guy's hotel room, except Steve has yet to look at Danny. His head is facing him, but Steve's eyes are on the ground by Danny's feet.

No amount of time could possibly make Danny misinterpret that expression.

"Hey, Super SEAL, are you going to give me a hand, or just stand there?" he demands, hands on his hips. "I'd ask if watching paint dry is as exciting as expected, but I don't want to consider how long it's been since any of these walls saw anything resembling paint."

Steve's expression loosens slightly as he walks over and hauls Danny up as if he were a doll, but he's still broadcasting guilt like a puppy that's left a wet spot on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Danny," he blurts, hands still tucked between Danny's arms and his body, Steve's own pressed close as he keeps his partner steady. "I'm sorry you got shot, and I'm sorry I didn't keep you safe. I'm really, very sorry. I can't say it won't happen again, but please don't leave. Please, Danno-"

He shouldn't do it, but there's a part of Danny that has a mean and selfish idea.

"I'd be more likely to give your apology serious consideration if I had some solid proof of how much you mean that."

Steve blinks, thrown, but Danny can see he'd caught the difference in tone. This isn't the kind of talking he does when he's getting ready to shout or storm off; he's blatantly needling Steve, pushing him. All Steve has to do is figure out where he's going.

"And what might constitute solid proof of how sorry I am?" Steve's face is scrunched slightly as he works through what Danny isn't saying. He's sufficiently distracted from his panic over losing Danny's trust- which they'll have to discuss later so Danny can explain that no, he hasn't lost it and Steve can get the fear out of his system- and working on the puzzle he's been presented.

It won't take too much longer. Steve's a smart guy, and Danny isn't trying to make things too difficult.

When he gets it, Steve's face morphs into a massive grin just before he tightens his grip on his prize and dives in for a sufficiently sloppy kiss, which should earn him teasing from the man he's squishing, but Danny's too busy being sloppy right back to do more than hum happily.

* * *

_Mark_

 

As he comes awake, Danny finds himself at a loss. He hasn't had a nightmare- no tell-tale panting or sweat-soaked clothes clinging to him, nor any damp sheets twisted around him- and his body is unusually comfortable. Even the oldest, deepest wounds aren't complaining, and his knee's customary morning twinge is nowhere to be found. He doesn't feel drugged, but something's definitely off-

_Oh._

His head flops to the side, and yes, there he is, Steve McGarrett, snuggled tight against Danny. He's been living with Steve for months and formally living together for three. It's still odd, seeing another man curled around him- even years ago, he'd felt strange about it after spending so much time with women- but Danny can't say it's anything less than a positive experience. He's on his back as usual, but Steve's on his side, legs wrapped around Danny's bad knee like a weird, fleshy brace.

There's also Steve's distinct lack of clothing. It genuinely is hot in Hawai'i, and though Danny may be used to sleeping with a certain amount of clothing in case little feet came padding into his room at night, Steve isn't (He's promised to be better at that once Grace moves in at the end of the school year). This isn't the first time he's woken up to a naked Steve, drowsy and slow with sleep, nor is it the first time he's felt that particular prodding at his hip,but it's tge first time he's thought about taking some time to enjoy them properly.

It hadn't been as embarrassing as he'd thought, having the "I can't and won't do what people think of as 'gay sex'" talk with Steve. They'd gone over everything, from Danny's general preference to forego the entire situation of tops and bottoms and his definite refusal to partake now to protection and other practicalities and ended with a discussion of Steve's lack of experience with men, which Danny has a suspicion had mostly come up at that point because Steve hadn't wanted him to feel uncomfortable, being the only one to share something uncomfortable.

They've had the important conversation, but neither has made a move to take things beyond letting their hands explore on the couch or the unfortunate mutual handjobs they'd had to drop midway because of an unexpected appearance from Grace.

Steve's eyes aren't open even halfway, but he's sending a _look_ at Danny, this heavy-lidded, sleep-stupid look that, combined with a not-so-subtle hip roll, makes Danny smile turn a little stupid, too. Steve must have decided it's time to get a move on, and Danny doesn't have any objections.

"'At're you doin'?" he mumbles anyway.

Steve rumbles something incomprehensible and undoubtedly snarky, because however lazy he may look, Danny knows he's as alert as he is at work. He's promptly distracted as Steve's stretches slowly, his expression perking up.

There's a question in it, too, which Danny brushes aside with a cotton-mouth kiss. If there's a problem- he doubts there will be, but if there is- he'll let Steve know. Loudly.

With none of his usual grace, Steve heaves himself up and flops onto Danny, chortling at the grunt he gets.

"Damn it, Steve, you're a grown man," Danny wheezes. "You can't just throw yourself onto people like that!"

"I know I'm a man, Danny; I just wanted to make sure you do, too."

He shouldn't be attractive when he's being so ridiculous, but Danny can't help appreciating Steve, even when he's preening like a teenager.

The smart reply he'd been planning to shoot back is violently derailed when he makes looks up and catches Steve studying him, brow furrowed and head cocked.

"What's wrong, babe?"

"Nothing's wrong. I'm happy, actually. It feels strange and a little wrong, but I am."

"Well, you better get used to it, because I happen to like it. In fact, one of my life goals is to make you the happiest man on earth. You think you can handle that?"

 _Crisis averted. Nothing gets this guy's attention like a dare_ , Danny thinks gratefully as Steve's expression turns sly.

"Only if you can handle being the most jubilant man on earth."

"Jubilant? And you mock my vocabulary?"

Danny's about to flip them over when Steve drops his head for a quick kiss, then another and another until Danny can barely catch his breath and Steve's hips are stuttering in little half-thrusts against him.

"Hey, Danny?" Steve pants, head bent and lips pressed to his ear.

"Mm?"

"Can I- Can we... do this?"

Danny's too busy trying to get his mouth back on Steve's to say anything but figures that's answer enough.

He quickly discovers that while Steve may kiss desperately, that's all he does quickly. He's slow when he strips Danny, takes his time to search for the lube, inches across the bed to grab it and seems to forget how to bring it back, but Danny, he's discovered he likes slow. In fact, he's got a _thing_ for slow. He takes his time moving his legs apart then waits patiently for Steve to settle in, and he takes as long as he wants to run his hands up and down Steve's back, his fingers memorizing every bump, dip and smooth spot from the base of Steve's spine to the nape of his neck. Then he does it again, but this time, with each press of his fingers, he pushes with his hips, dragging his erection up Steve's belly, then back through the trail of hair as Steve pushes back, his own erection hard and damp where it slides along Danny's body.

Why no one had ever told him the best kind of sex is the kind where he has all the time in the world and his partner's breath is rank is... actually completely believable.

But Steve's always had a knack for making things that shouldn't, work, and with this slow grind and too fast kisses, he's outdone himself. He's ruined Danny for fast, dirty sex, because there isn't anything that could be more intense than feeling Steve shiver harder and pant louder with each lazy thrust. Instead of feeling the rush of insistent _need to come nownownow_ , he can feel himself relaxing, almost growing sleepy again, even if he can't actually overlook the way his dick's throbbing and twitching slightly, somewhat neglected by the lack of grabbing and _fucking._

Somehow, he and Steve eventually manage to get the lube open, but Danny winds up with a lake of it across his chest and a handful of it, the slick sliding through his fingers and running down his arm as he blinks up at Steve in confusion. Steve looks just as bemused as he does, though, because he's got a brand new bottle that's somehow become empty.

With a snort and a head shake, Steve wraps a hand around the one Danny's still holding up, even though it's nearly empty, and slides it around, slicking up his palm, before finally reaching down and grabbing hold of them in one of his fantastically large hands.

Danny's back arches without his permission, head pressing into his pillow, but Steve doesn't seem upset by the unexpected position change. He wraps his free arm around Danny's back and pulls him up, fiddling with his hips until he's straddling Danny's lap, his hand still warm around them.

"Hey... Steve," Danny pants as Steve's lips leave his for a moment. "Not that I'm not enjoying this, but I'm curious. Is this coming to an end any time soon? 'Cause I think I heard something about having a hard on for four hours and talking to my doctor."

The glint in Steve's eye makes him reconsider his question, but it's too late.

"You want an end, Danny? You just had to ask," Steve says sweetly.

The switch from sloppy to focused comes in an instant, Steve's grip firm as he sets to jerking them fast and hard, more like a lonely shower in the Navy than the end of a lazy morning's activities.

Danny doesn't realize it's happening until his vision whites out and he doesn't feel anything other than pleasure and good will towards everything and everyone, but Steve and his rough, twisting hand have yanked him over the edge. The next time his vision clears, it's just in time to see Steve's own orgasm knock through him: bright eyes flying open as his head falls forward, groaning something that sounds a lot like, "Danny," or, "Finally,"  and his body twitching from head to toe.

It's possible that, in the past, Danny has been accused of having no appreciation of fine art, but even he can see that the way Steve had looked right then: eyes open in surprise, lips parted, skin flushed and body hunched, was the kind of thing any artist would kill to capture.

But, he thinks smugly, he not only gets to see that side of Steve, he _made_ it, and like any artist, he plans to devote as much of his time as he can to taking in every expression he can get Steve to make.

He's still soaking in the sight of him when Steve comes back to himself, and with a slightly guilty pang, Danny realizes he hasn't moved them from their earlier position. They're still hunched over in bed, lube and come and sweat- probably some of Steve's saliva, the animal- what else smeared between them.

"Still not one to clean up your messes, huh, Danno?"

"Excuse me? At least half of this is yours, my friend. Especially the lube."

His protests would have more effect if Danny weren't pulling Steve closer and sliding back onto the bed.

"Are you seriously going to lie in that?"

"I'm in the afterglow, Steven. I don't care about spilled lube."

"The sweat was more what I meant, but that, too. And there's this mess between us that'll stick if we don't-"

"If it bothers you so much, feel free to get up and clean up, but right now, there are two things I want: you and sleep. So goodnight for now. I will see you after my nap."

He's surprised when Steve doesn't leave, but not when he grabs a sheet and tries to wipe up what he can. It's endearing and slightly pathological, which sums up Steve in general quite well, actually.

"Danny?" he asks, and he sounds so serious, Danny finds a way to let him know he's listening. A caveman like Steve would understand grunts, so he isn't concerned about a proper reply. "I love you, you know. And not just because we had sex."

That's exactly the kind of glow-killer Steve would drop on him. Or it would be, if Danny hadn't silently been wanting to hear him say that.

He struggles enough to open an eye as he gives Steve the kind of answer that deserves.

"I love you, too, babe. And I'm in this for keeps, not just the killer sex."

Steve beams at him from where he's collapsed on Danny's body and presses a kiss to the too-sensitive skin on his belly.

He doesn't anything back, so Danny deems it safe to search for the remainder of the glow.

Only Steve's still got enough energy to interrupt that, too.

 _"For it was not into my ear you whispered but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed but my soul,"_   he murmurs into the same skin he'd kissed.

At Danny's questioning noise, he blushes.

"What? My mom liked Judy Garland..."

Danny has a feeling this is going to be another of the routines Steve makes, and he's pretty sure it's going to be his favorite.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is it. The final part of TIB. Thank heavens, and thank _you_. It's been full of fun and self-recrimination, but, at last, we can let this AU rest.


End file.
